Take Me Out of the Dark
by smaragdbird
Summary: Clint suffers night-terrors. Sleep starts to be a scary thing and then an impossibility altogether. And then it affects his daily life.


The manacles were cold and unyielding around his wrists. The chair was weld to the floor. They weren't amateurs; Clint had to give them that.

His hand hurt like hell but he hadn't made a sound when they had shattered it with a hammer to not give them satisfaction but when they had started to push needles into his fingertips that particular resolve had crumbled fast.

He still hadn't answered a single one of their questions.

"We could use a scalpel." The two men who tortured him were back.

"I'm not an expert on face anatomy." The other man sounded sceptical. "If he bleeds to death we don't have anything."

"Or we could use a spoon, carve them out." The first man sounded almost enthusiastic.

"Carving a man's eyes out with a spoon?" the second man repeated amused, "Sounds messy. And like something out of a bad horror movie."

"Don't tell me. You're the one who watched Saw and Hostel for "inspirational value"," Clint thought he was going to be sick. They were going to take his eyes and now they were bantering about it. He needed to get out of here before they had decided what to use.

Carefully, as to not to attract their attention he tested the manacles again but it was clear that he needed a welding flame to get out of them, or break both hands and feet but that would make escaping rather difficult.

"I could get a textbook to look up the anatomy. I always wanted to learn something new." The first man was grinning, Clint could hear it in his voice.

The second man hummed thoughtfully. "You know we could use acid."

"Acid?" The first man repeated, "that's what spurned lovers use in third world countries."

"It's safer than anything you suggested, "the second man argued. "Two or three drops in each eye and it's done, no mess, nothing to clean up."

"Fine, "the first man grumbled.

They injected him with a muscle relaxant to make sure he wouldn't fight back but stay conscious.

And then they forced his eyes open and-

Clint woke up in total darkness, his hand burning like hell. In a moment of sheer panic he thought he was really blind until he noticed the light from the street lights seeping in between the curtains.

Next to him Phil was fast asleep, a hand curled around Clint's elbow. Clint covered it with his own hand, trying to relax and slip back into sleep.

He lay there until the sun rose over New York.

/

Clint thoughtfully flexed his hand while sitting at the kitchen table. Thanks to Thor's Asgardian magic there was no lasting damage, no slow recovery time. His hand was as good as new, without even a scar to show.

It was still very early in the morning and for once he had even beaten Steve who was usually the first one up. On the other hand he had heard Natasha come in half an hour ago, who had spent the night doing paperwork if by paperwork one meant screwing Nick Fury into next week.

"Morning," Steve had come out of his room in his jogging clothes, giving Clint a surprised look. "Up early?" He walked to the fridge to take a bottle of water from it. "How's your hand?"

"Works like magic." Steve rolled his eyes at the bad pun.

"See you later."

"Yeah, "Clint echoed but Steve was already out of the door.

The truth was that he had no idea where he would be right now if his capturers had damaged his hands or eyes irreparably. Beyond being the best goddamn sniper in the country Shield had no use for him. Steve was a tactical genius and if all the talks with Rhodey were any indication, his ideas were quite useful in modern day warfare as well; Natasha spoke half a dozen languages and had a degree in corporate law, Tony and Bruce had had careers in their own right long before joining the Initiative and Thor could always return to Asgard. No, it was only him who was completely fucking useless outside Shield unless he wanted to teach archery classes. And even for that he would need his hands and his eyes.

When Clint came back to their room, technically his but Phil's flat had to be the most unused place on the planet by now, he heard the shower running.

Without giving it a second thought he left his clothes on the floor and walked into the bathroom and right into the shower. Thanks to Tony's man-whoring qualities the showers at the mansion were big enough for two people.

He swallowed any questions Phil might have had with his kiss. Maybe a little more desperate than he usually would have but he needed the contact, needed to see Phil even with water running into his eyes. The desperate need to shake off the lingering fear from the nightmare and the old insecurities about his future rearing their ugly heads.

/

Clint woke up to total darkness.

And his hand hurt like it was on fire.

The same pattern every night. At first it was okay. He might have gotten a little less sleep than usually but he could deal with that. They were just nightmares after all and they would fade. They always did.

It was just...they had come so close. Clint stared at his hand. If not for Thor's magic his hand wouldn't be healed yet and even then it wouldn't be as steady and strong as it was now. Sure, he was not a surgeon, but...

He could deal with the nightmare (one, it was only ever one) as long as Phil was there. The warmth of Phil's body, the familiarity of his breath during the night held the nightmare off until the early morning hours.

But then Fury ordered him away from the Avengers.

/

Clint lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was terrified to close his eyes. The lights were on because he couldn't stand the darkness. If he was lucky he got a couple minutes before cold laughter and incredible pain woke him up again.

Phil had left six days ago and this was his sixth sleepless night.

The sleep deprivation was getting to him although so far he had been able to hide it from the team. Mostly by staying away from them. This morning he had snapped at Bruce for clanking too much with the dishes, viciously lashing out until Bruce looked afraid of him and Clint came to realise what he had done.

"I'm sorry", he had said immediately, "I don't know-"

"It's fine", Bruce had answered, "I know it can be hard to be forced to live with strangers."

Bruce was always too kind and too forgiving when it came to other people.

Clint's eyes fell closed and for one precious minute he was asleep until not his hand flared up with pain and his ears rang with cruel laughter but with the alarm for another attack.

Cursing his luck, Clint got up and grabbed his bow on the way out.

/

"What's wrong with you"? Natasha demanded to know as soon as the door was closed.

"Nothing's wrong", Clint snapped. "It's not my fault if Rogers can't make decisions."

"Your hands are trembling", Natasha continued as if she hadn't heard him. "Your eyes are red, you're shivering in 30 degrees sunshine."

"It's nothing."

"Is it because Phil is gone? You haven't been sleeping, have you, since he left."

"I can handle it."

"No, you can't! You proved that today." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You can't wait it out until Phil comes back. No one knows when-"

"Yes, I know", he snapped, irritated, but Natasha's only reaction was a look that made clear that he had just proved her point.

Clint sighed impatiently. Natasha's presence was making his skin itch and he wanted her gone before he did anything stupid.

"There's nothing you can do about it", he told her.

She tilted her head as if to say "try me."

He sat down heavily on his bed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"You remember when they took me a couple months ago?"

She nodded.

"They were going to take my eyes. With battery acid. In my dreams they do", he laughed hollowly. "I don't know why I can't let it go. I mean it's hardly the first time I was tortured. It didn't even happen or I wouldn't be here."

"And they started when Phil left?"

"They started seven weeks ago, but Phil kept them at bay somehow."

"Did you tell him?"

"No."

Natasha looked hurt which was way worse than looking like she wanted to hit him for not trusting either her or Phil with this. They had made it through far worse and way more embarrassing things than crippling nightmares after a fucked up mission.

She stood up, pacing the room which was her way of controlling the urge to strangle him.

"Look, Tash, I fucked up-"

"One of our teammates is in the hospital because you let your pride get in the way like some green-faced junior agent", she yelled at him, murder in her eyes. "We throw people out for this, Clint!"

He looked down at his hands, not meeting her eyes. The guilt was bad enough as it was.

"You're going to report me to Fury?"

"I'll see that Steve benches you until this is over. Get some help, Clint or I'll see to it. And you owe Bruce an apology for letting him down, once he wakes up."

He caught her wrist with his hand. "Thanks, Tash."

She sighed as if she didn't know why she put up with him. "Do you want me to stay here tonight? See if it helps?"

He nodded, feeling immensely grateful towards her.

/

The manacles were cold and unyielding around his wrists. The chair was weld to the floor. They weren't amateurs; Clint had to give them that.

His hand hurt like hell but he hadn't made a sound when they had shattered it with a hammer to not give them satisfaction but when they had started to push needles into his fingertips that particular resolve had crumbled fast.

He still hadn't answered a single one of their questions.

"We could use a scalpel." The two men who tortured him were back.

"I'm not an expert on face anatomy." The other man sounded sceptical. "If he bleeds to death we don't have anything."

"Or we could use a spoon, carve them out." The first man sounded almost enthusiastic.

"Carving a man's eyes out with a spoon?" the second man repeated amused, "Sounds messy. And like something out of a bad horror movie."

"Don't tell me. You're the one who watched Saw and Hostel for "inspirational value"," Clint thought he was going to be sick. They were going to take his eyes and now they were bantering about it. He needed to get out of here before they had decided what to use.

Carefully, as to not to attract their attention he tested the manacles again but it was clear that he needed a welding flame to get out of them, or break both hands and feet but that would make escaping rather difficult.

"I could get a textbook to look up the anatomy. I always wanted to learn something new." The first man was grinning, Clint could hear it in his voice.

The second man hummed thoughtfully. "You know we could use acid."

"Acid?" The first man repeated, "that's what spurned lovers use in third world countries."

"It's safer than anything you suggested, "the second man argued. "Two or three drops in each eye and it's done, no mess, nothing to clean up."

"Fine, " the first man grumbled.

They injected him with a muscle relaxant to make sure he wouldn't fight back but stay conscious.

And then they forced his eyes open and his eyes burned. He tried to move but he couldn't.

He could only scream.

Clint bolted up, leaning over the edge of the bed before he threw up. The dream had never gone this far before. He was shivering uncontrollably and his hand hurt like hell.

Someone put a blanket around his shoulders and only then he realised that he wasn't in his room anymore but in Shield's infirmary.

"Bruce?" He asked hazily. The last time he had seen him Bruce hadn't been anywhere near being able to stand upright.

"You look worse than I did three days ago."

"I'm sorry", Clint whispered. His throat burned with bile and he was shivering and exhausted.

"I heal pretty quickly", Bruce answered and made him lie down again.

"The nice side of being an enormous green rage monster in your spare time?" Clint tried to joke weakly.

"One day someone will build a time machine and I will use it to punch Tony in face before he can ever utter that sentence", Bruce muttered. It was true. Tony's greeting of Bruce had gained some notoriety among Shield personal.

"No, you won't", Clint croaked with a weak smile. Bruce, of all of them, was the person who'd least likely hit Stark.

"No, I won't", Bruce agreed.

"I'm sorry", Clint said again. "I should have…I was stupid."

"Natasha said you have nightmares from the time they tortured you", Bruce said quietly. "I'm the last person to hold that against you. Tony on the other hand-"He gave Clint a quick smile.

"He loves you."

Bruce shrugged.

"You get dreams?" Clint asked, remembering Bruce's exact words before his quip about Tony.

"Flashbacks, in the shower", Bruce's smile was somewhere between sardonic and pained. "When I'm…the other guy bullets feel like water drops on my skin. I don't go out into the rain either."

"How do you-"

"Water hose. Most of the places I've lived in didn't have showers anyway", Bruce shrugged. "Look, if you need help and don't want anyone inside Shield to know I can give you the address of Dr. Samson. He's a good guy."

"Isn't that your ex-girlfriend's boyfriend?"

Bruce nodded.

"You think he can handle this?"

"He told off the General once. I think he can."

"I'll give it a thought", that wasn't a promise but Natasha was right when she had said that he needed help and if he could avoid this whole thing ending up in his personal file then that counted as a win. Right now however he wanted Phil and a couple hours of dreamless sleep.

"You should get some more sleep", Bruce said, "I'll get Natasha before Tony notices that I'm not where I told him I'd be."

"You remember Tony has Jarvis to spy for him, right?"

Bruce gave him a rare grin. "Jarvis likes me."

"Natasha, she-"

"-sedated you, yes. You're lucky. When she told us why you behaved like you did she looked ready to murder you."

Clint was already getting sleepy from the meds Bruce had put into his IV line but fear of the nightmare shot through him and kept him awake a little longer until he felt Natasha's hand in his, gripping fingers tightly.

"I'm here", she said through the oncoming darkness.

/

"Hey", Clint said as he entered the lab. He had waited until Tony had left for a board meeting in Los Angeles which should occupy him for a couple days.

"Hey", Bruce answered, taking off his glasses.

"Am I disturbing you?"

"It's fine."

"What you said about talking so someone", Clint stalled time by moving around the room, looking at things that only partly made sense to him. "I thought maybe I could talk to you."

"Okay", Bruce answered, visibly surprised.

"If it's okay with you."

"It is", Bruce watched him still stalling. "Just…why me? Why not Natasha?"

"There're things we don't talk about", Clint answered. "No need to remind each other of what we've seen, what we've done."

Bruce patiently waited for him to continue. If Clint knew one thing about Bruce then that he had a nearly endless supply of patience, which probably made him perfect for Tony.

"It's not even a real nightmare", Clint started with a downplaying undertone. "It's just a replay of what happened the last time I was captured."

Bruce nodded to show that he remembered the incident as well.

"I've been tortured before. It shouldn't be a big deal."

"But it is."

Clint nodded jerkily. "They were going to burn my eyes out. They came pretty damn fucking close."

"Did that happen to you before?"

"My eyes? As a threat, sure but this time", he had to take a breath to distance himself from the memory. "Five minutes later and I would have been completely fucking useless to everyone."

"That's it, isn't it?" Bruce asked. "You're afraid that they don't want you around if you can't do your job anymore."

He cut right to the heart of the issue, Clint could admire that. "Shield recruits only the best. They have no use for me if I can't shoot."

"Have you talked about this with Agent Coulson?"

"You mean now or...ever?"

"The last one."

Clint looked away. "No."

"Look, I'm the last person you should come to for life advice but I think you should talk with him and not with me."

"When you first became the Hulk how did you deal with that?" Clint asked bluntly.

"I lost everything, literally right down to my shirt and then I was hunted like an animal for years", Bruce said with a smile but without humour. "There are two people in this world who know what I am and don't see me as a monster. There are still days when I think that dying would be a kindness." Bruce looked at him challengingly but Clint, although he felt as if some part of him should protest, just nodded.

"Thanks."

/

He dealt with it. Sleeping pills and Natasha sleeping in the same room as him which got them some comments from Tony but if there was anything Tony didn't make sarcastic comments about Clint hadn't encountered it yet.

He talked with Bruce sometimes, not as openly honestly as that first time but it was a surprise how much they had in common besides living on the shady side for a couple years.

Steve steadfastly refused to put him back on active duty no matter how Clint begged him to.

"When you can sleep again without taking meds then we'll talk."

So instead Clint pulled surveillance mission after surveillance mission for Fury.

It had been two months and Phil still wasn't back.

Even Tony became concerned although of course he would never admit it.

"Did you accidentally kill him and try to keep that a secret from us?" Tony asked Fury after a debriefing.

"The man has other things to do than watch your ass, Stark", Fury glared at him. "Agent Romanov, a word please."

/

They were sent to Finland, all of them. Natasha obviously knew more about the op than she let on but she had been tight-lipped for the whole flight both figuratively and literally. Tony put as much space as possible between Clint and Bruce. He did still not trust him with Bruce's life and Clint knew that if their positions were reversed he would act the same way.

He was surprised that he was on the team in the first place but it probably hadn't been Steve's decision to take him back.

No one else had been given details about the mission but Natasha so she led the team this time. But whatever Fury had told her made her tense and withdrawn to the point where she was barely speaking to any of them even Clint.

Phil waited for them in a safe house near the Russian border. He looked scruffy and exhausted.

Natasha was the only one not surprised to see him. "Is it...do you have him?" She asked instead of a greeting. Clint had rarely seen her so agitated.

Phil shook his head. "He's been moved. The last time I checked the location he was supposedly held at, it looked as if it had been abandoned decades ago. I didn't manage to reach Fury before he sent you here. Sorry"

"That's impossible."

"Feel free to go over the data again, maybe I missed something."

Only once Natasha had rushed inside Phil turned to the rest of them. Thor greeted him enthusiastically and even Tony seemed glad to see him. Phil waited until Steve and Bruce were gone as well before he pulled Clint close. "Hey."

"Hey", Clint replied, feeling giddy with relief. He leaned his forehead against Phil's. "Glad to see you."

"Sorry I couldn't call you. Reception out here is crap."

"It's fine." They could talk later. For now Clint was simply glad that he had Phil back.

They walked inside to find Natasha cursing at the computer. The others were standing around the room, obviously waiting for an explanation but not daring to talk to her.

Tony turned to Phil. "Care to explain what's going on, Agent?"

"Shield is looking for an assassin called the Winter Soldier. He was one of Natasha's teachers. History and paperwork connects him to the Soviet now Russian intelligence forces but in reality that seems to be a red herring. The paper trail led to a dead end."

"That's why you called us here? To handle one guy?" Tony scoffed.

"The Winter Soldier is notoriously hard to keep hold off. There are no photos and he leaves no witnesses. Until Natasha Shield thought he was a ghost that had been attributed with unrelated assassinations over sixty years."

"So what now?" Steve asked. "If the trail is dead what do we do now?"

"Unless Natasha or Stark can find something valuable we go home. I'm sorry for bringing all of you out here but if the lead had been correct we would have had to act fast."

Tony, who was reading over Natasha's shoulder, shrugged. "Well, that was certainly anti-climactic."

Clint tried to hide his relief. If the mission was a failure then Phil would come back with them and everything would be fine, just like before.

/

He didn't bring his insomnia or the nightmares up on the flight back and neither did anyone else. Tony and Natasha were busy going through the files Phil had secured to see if he had missed anything. Steve was asking Bruce about the countries he had seen and Thor had taken off to see Norway which his father had once defended against the frost giants.

Phil was flying the plane and Clint had curled up on the co-pilot seat to watch him work. The comfortable silence lasted until they had reached altitude and Phil switched the auto-pilot on. Then he turned to Clint and said, "You look pretty bad."

"Thanks", Clint said dryly. "You know how to make a guy feel wanted."

"Nick said Steve pulled you off the team because you had trouble sleeping", Phil kept his voice down so that the others wouldn't hear but Clint had still hoped they could postpone this particular conversation until they were back in New York.

"I'm dealing with it."

"That's not what Natasha said."

They had made a deal when they had started their relationship to talk about things. Phil had put a lot of emphasis on that considering that they worked together. So far it had worked but that didn't mean it didn't feel like pulling teeth every now and then. "Can we talk about it later?"

"Sure", Phil smiled and squeezed his hand.

In the back of the plane they could hear Natasha and Tony curse.

"Guess they haven't found anything useful either", Phil said with disappointment in his voice.

"What's so special about this Winter Soldier?" Clint asked. "Why does Shield need him?"

"He's possibly the best marksman in the world. And Natasha thinks he could be persuaded to switch sides. He could make an extremely valuable agent and it'd be a loss for the other side."

"Thought we were trying to play nice with the Russians."

"That's the thing. There's seems to be no tangible proof that the Russians used an Assassin with that name in the past decades. Natasha said the Red Room trained her but the paperwork on them is just as sparse as the paperwork for the Winter Soldier. And now that the last location turned up empty like all the others I'm beginning to think there's something more to it."

"But the Red Room was real. Or do you think someone brainwashed Natasha?"

"Unlikely, I'm thinking more along the lines of an exchange. The Winter Soldier helped to train a new generation of assassin's and was taken by a third party away from the Russians in the chaos of the early nineties. Maybe the Red Room thought he was too incriminatory for the new regime and wanted to get rid of him."

"And who do you think was that third party?"

"That's what I'm hoping we'll find out sooner than later."

/

The manacles were cold and unyielding around his wrists. The chair was weld to the floor. They weren't amateurs; Clint had to give them that.

His hand hurt like hell but he hadn't made a sound when they had shattered it with a hammer to not give them satisfaction but when they had started to push needles into his fingertips that particular resolve had crumbled fast.

He still hadn't answered a single one of their questions.

"We could use a scalpel." The two men who tortured him were back.

A third man was in the room with him. Clint couldn't see his face even though he stood directly opposite him.

"I'm not an expert on face anatomy." The second man said sceptically. "If he bleeds to death we don't have anything."

"Or we could use a spoon, carve them out." The first man sounded almost enthusiastic.

"Carving a man's eyes out with a spoon?" the second man repeated amused, "Sounds messy. And like something out of a bad horror movie."

"Don't tell me. You're the one who watched Saw and Hostel for "inspirational value"," Clint thought he was going to be sick. They were going to take his eyes and now they were bantering about it. He needed to get out of here before they had decided what to use.

"You'll be useless", the third man said.

Carefully, as to not to attract their attention he tested the manacles again but it was clear that he needed a welding flame to get out of them, or break both hands and feet but that would make escaping rather difficult.

"No one will come for you", the third man said.

"I could get a textbook to look up the anatomy. I always wanted to learn something new." The first man was grinning, Clint could hear it in his voice.

The second man hummed thoughtfully. "You know we could use acid."

"Acid?" The first man repeated, "that's what spurned lovers use in third world countries."

"It's safer than anything you suggested, "the second man argued. "Two or three drops in each eye and it's done, no mess, nothing to clean up."

"They don't need you", the man said. "Not when they can have me."

"Fine, "the first man grumbled.

They injected him with a muscle relaxant to make sure he wouldn't fight back but stay conscious.

And then they forced his eyes open and-

Clint jerked awake, his skin crawling with fear. Next to him Phil had reached out and he was looking at him full of concern. "Clint?"

"I'm okay, I'm okay", Clint said shakily. It didn't ease the worry from Phil's face but he respected Clint's request to talk in private.

/

Back in New York Phil went to HQ first to report back to Fury. Tony dragged Bruce off to the lab or maybe it was the other way around. Steve set off on his own like he usually did and Clint went with Natasha. He could tell she was disappointed. Whoever this Winter Soldier was, he meant a great deal to her. She was rarely so open with her feelings.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

Natasha shook her head so instead he took her to a bar. Phil and Fury would need some time for the debrief and Clint sent Phil a text where to find him. He wasn't exactly looking forward to talking with Phil about his nightmare.

They ordered a bottle of vodka and played darts. All in all a typical night out for the two of them. He and Natasha had never been good at talking, not even when they had still been together. Clint wondered whether she talked with Fury but doubted it.

"Do you share or should we order our own?" Fury asked when he and Phil came into the bar. They had finished earlier than Clint had thought they would.

"I'll share if you dance with me", Natasha said and stroked the lapels of Fury's coat suggestively.

"Does Fury even do dancing?" Clint whispered to Phil.

"Guess we'll find out", Phil replied.

"Things I do for alcohol", Fury sighed and pulled her to the part of the bar where people were dancing but not before taking a swig from the bottle.

Phil and Clint stared. Fury wasn't even half bad at dancing even if it looked a little stiff compared to Natasha.

"Have you ever seen him do that before?" Clint asked.

Phil shook his head, still staring.

"Look at them and tell me that's not true love."

"Don't know if it's true love but I'd say it's pretty damn close." Phil said. "Damn, he's making me feel inadequate in the romance department."

Clint nudged him in the side. "You're not so bad."

"Thanks", Phil said and kissed him. It went on for considerably longer than it usually did but then they hadn't seen each other for two months. "Let's get out of here", Phil whispered in his ear. "I've got plans." He didn't sound like he meant talking or at least not talking right now. Maybe Clint could sleep through the night when Phil had fucked him to the point of exhaustion.

/

The manacles were cold and unyielding around his wrists. The chair was weld to the floor. They weren't amateurs; Clint had to give them that.

His hand hurt like hell but he hadn't made a sound when they had shattered it with a hammer to not give them satisfaction but when they had started to push needles into his fingertips that particular resolve had crumbled fast.

He still hadn't answered a single one of their questions.

"We could use a scalpel." The two men who tortured him were back.

A third man was in the room with him. Clint couldn't see his face even though he stood directly opposite him.

"I'm not an expert on face anatomy." The second man said sceptically. "If he bleeds to death we don't have anything."

"Or we could use a spoon, carve them out." The first man sounded almost enthusiastic.

"Carving a man's eyes out with a spoon?" the second man repeated amused, "Sounds messy. And like something out of a bad horror movie."

"Don't tell me. You're the one who watched Saw and Hostel for "inspirational value"," Clint thought he was going to be sick. They were going to take his eyes and now they were bantering about it. He needed to get out of here before they had decided what to use.

"You'll be useless", the third man said.

Carefully, as to not to attract their attention he tested the manacles again but it was clear that he needed a welding flame to get out of them, or break both hands and feet but that would make escaping rather difficult.

"No one will come for you", the third man said.

"I could get a textbook to look up the anatomy. I always wanted to learn something new." The first man was grinning, Clint could hear it in his voice.

"They don't need you", the man said. "Not when they can have me."

The second man hummed thoughtfully. "You know we could use acid."

"Acid?" The first man repeated, "that's what spurned lovers use in third world countries."

"It's safer than anything you suggested, "the second man argued. "Two or three drops in each eye and it's done, no mess, nothing to clean up."

"Fine, "the first man grumbled.

They injected him with a muscle relaxant to make sure he wouldn't fight back but stay conscious.

"He doesn't need you. What use could he have for a cripple?" The third man was right in front of him now but Clint still couldn't see his face. "I'll take him away from you. He'll forget you ever existed. Because you're useless."

And then they forced his eyes open and-

Clint woke up screaming. It was dark and his hand burned like fire. How could it be so dark? He wasn't blind. It had been just a dream. He wasn't blind –

Phil switched the lights on. Clint could see the twisted sheets, their clothes haphazardly strewn across the room, Phil's face full of worry.

"Clint?" He asked, stretching a hand out towards him cautiously as if Clint was an easily spooked animal.

"I'm okay." Clint raked a hand through his hair and took a deep breath to get his heartbeat back under control. "How long did I sleep?"

Phil took a quick look at the clock. "Little more than an hour." He waited. It was one of the things Clint loved about him. He rarely pushed Clint but let him speak at his own pace.

"I thought it was going to be better when you were here again. Guess I was wrong about that." Clint looked at Phil. "Do you remember when they took me a couple months ago?"

"Vividly", Phil's lips thinned. It was sign of anger and Phil had been vicious in killing Clint's kidnappers.

"They were about to burn my eyes out when you came in," Clint laughed hollowly. "Five minutes later and I'd have been useless."

"You didn't say anything back then."

"I didn't want to think about it. Maybe I should've. Maybe I wouldn't be dreaming about it then."

"And you wouldn't be useless." Of course Phil had picked up on that.

"Oh yeah? Ever heard of a blind marksman? Because I haven't."

"There's Thor and Asgard's advanced medicine. And shooting isn't your only talent. I still get the occasional offer from the communications branch should you get bored of field work. You have a place with Shield as long as you want it", Phil sounded very sincere about it which was why he won people's loyalty so easily. He didn't make promises he couldn't keep.

"You'd still be in the field", Clint pointed out.

"I'm flexible. We could buy a house and go fishing."

"You hate fishing. And you love being in the field."

Phil shrugged. "I love you more." It was cheesy, sure, but Phil said it in the same sincere tone as before and Clint's heart felt a little lighter. He leaned over and kissed Phil. "Thanks. I think I needed to hear that."

Phil rested his forehead against Clint's. "You're welcome", he said and squeezed Clint's hand.

"Have you seen a therapist yet?"

Clint shook his head. "I've been talking to Bruce. But I guess that doesn't count. And he keeps pointing out that he doesn't have the right temperament for it."

"You're right, Bruce doesn't count. But I'm glad you had someone to talk to." Phil wrapped an arm around Clint and pulled him close. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."

"You're here now. That's enough", Clint said and meant it. Phil didn't make everything magically better or erased Clint's nightmare but knowing with absolute certainty that Phil was his side helped. He, they, could get through this.

Together.


End file.
